Mutualism
by hoarfrosted
Summary: Logan isn't Jett's usual type by far, but he's willing to make a few exceptions...even if Logan is a little strange. Warnings for sexual content and language. AU.


**Disclaimer: I don't claim jack-diddly.**

_**So**_**, this was originally meant to be some short schmiddledoop with semi-anonymous smut, because I don't think Jettgan has any, but then I needed to add romance because I felt icky without it, and I can't write anything that doesn't have humor, so I ended up with this monstrosity. Afsxuyedbdw my life.**

**1: Warnings for explicit sexual content (including awkward sex – more awkward than sexy by far, light exhibitionism/voyeurism, and body part fixation) and language (from a horny Jett and a graphically candid Logan).**

**2: This story is set in an alternate universe with a few canon elements, so there is no Big Time Rush. The town it's set in is Edina. It focuses on Jett and Logan, small ~appearances by James, Kendall, Carlos and Jo, in some way or another. The characters are somewhere in their early twenties.**

**Funfact: Despite how much I write for Jettgan, Cargan is my BTR OTP FFCD. My poor crack-shipping heart.**

–

_Mutualism is a positive reciprocal relationship between two species. Through this relationship, both species enhance their survival, growth or fitness. To a certain extent, the relationship is more a reciprocal exploitation rather than a cooperative effort on the parts of the individuals involved._

_(Smith, Ecology & Field Biology)_

–

In the small town that Jett lived in, there was only one gay bar – at least, only one that he knew of, set cozily between a questionable sushi restaurant and a shop that sold foreign accessories of _all kinds_.

It sat at the edge of town, specifically so it was out of public view. The bar itself was typically packed with a wide variety of friendly, lively people. They either mingled with each other seamlessly on the dance floor to high-energy music, chatted away on the 'Wall Flower' wall, or simply observed from the bar stools. Generally, everyone was in a positive, chipper mood.

Jett didn't speak to any of these people.

He only came to the place once, maybe twice a week if he was in the mood, and it wasn't to socialize with any of the regulars. He came to find new patrons, preferably attractive new male patrons who weren't opposed to sharing a bed with him for the night. Otherwise, he sat at the bar and drank until he tired of waiting and settled for someone he'd already bedded.

It typically wasn't a very hard sale for him – flash his set of pearly whites, offer some half-baked line and invite to them dance, spend a few minutes having clothed-sex in public – cleverly disguised as dancing, drive to the nearest bed, fuck, separate, find someone new, repeat. For Jett, it was a simple, proven system that he planned to stick by until he exhausted all of his resources.

Currently, his emerald eyes were scanning over the crowd to search out any fresh faces. At most times his gaze was glued firmly to the entrance, waiting for that certain anyone to wander to through the doors. It was getting late and he was prepared to give up the search, tossing back the last of his drink.

Just as he paid, Jett spotted the 'anyone' he'd been searching for. _How_ he managed spot the man, he didn't know, seeing as he wasn't very tall. Perhaps it was the way he spiked his chocolate-brown hair, or the ethereal glow of his alabaster skin in the poor lighting of the bar, or the way that his attempt to dress in an unassuming fashion only set him more apart from the crowd.

Not dwelling heavily on it, Jett stood from the bar stool and slid effortlessly through the dancing mass, praying no one else approached the new patron before he got the chance to. From a closer distance, Jett could see the nervous expression on the man's face, complete with teeth biting at a lusciously plump lower lip – part of a set of lips that just _had_ to be perfect for cock sucking – dark orbs flitting this way and that, and fingers tugging at the hem of his cardigan.

Adorable, timid, and a tad confused. Exactly Jett's type.

Feeling particularly confident, Jett straightened his sport coat and sidled up the shorter man, waiting to be noticed. It didn't work. The man was too preoccupied with avoiding everyone's path and staying glued to his spot to register any attention he being given to him.

Jett huffed peevishly at being ignored. He cleared his throat loudly. "You look a little lost, angel. Care for a drink?" he asked smoothly with his trademark cocky smirk. It was usually all he needed to hook the…fish. Sex fish or something, whatever

The man blinked at him peculiarly, then shook his head briskly, going back to observing the crowd.

Jett gawked at him, unsure how to take being denied so easily. Jett knew he was gorgeous; there was no feasible reason for someone to _not_ want to have sex with him. The idea was laughable. No, it wasn't even laughable, Jett decided. It was downright _unacceptable_.

Just as Jett was prepared to give the obviously insane man a piece of his mind, the stranger's eyes widened with realization and he faced Jett again. "Wait, are you flirting with me?"

Jett, struck by the honest curiosity in the man's voice, frowned in confusion, unsure how to answer the strange question. People didn't _ask_ if you were flirting with them, they simply knew, didn't they? While Jett was glad that he hadn't been rejected, maybe that would have been best if he was dealing with someone who was socially inept.

Then again, this someone _was_ extremely cute. The cuter ones were always a little dull. This, he knew personally.

"…_yes_," Jett drew the word out carefully.

The man sighed, finally releasing the hem of his cardigan to wring out his hands. "I'm sorry. I've never really been on the receiving end of flirtations from another male – this is actually my first _official_ foray into the world of homosexuality and I'm not sure how I'm meant to proceed with finding a willing partner to explore my potential sexual ambivalence with. I hope this won't complicate things for you," he finally ended, inhaling deeply from lack of oxygen.

Feeling an impending headache because _there was too much information going too quickly_ in that statement, Jett rubbed at his temples, but didn't respond – not that he could, seeing as he had no clue what the other man had just said. Whatever it was, it didn't sound like he wanted the drink Jett offered, which also meant that he'd have to fly without the aid of discarded inhibitions that alcohol provided.

A slow song played in the bar. Deciding to ignore every other part of the other brunet's speech, Jett switched tactics. "Would you rather _dance_ then?" he invited.

The stranger looked to the entrance – almost as if he wanted run from the scene, before nodding. Pleased, Jett took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor, making sure to purposely bump people out of his way, both so they'd have adequate space to work with _and _so everyone knew he bagged a hot one. It was important for Jett to have people envious of him; he fed off of it.

Once he was satisfied, he spun around, making sure to flash another dazzling grin, and placed his hands on the shorter brunet's hips. The other man was lost as to what to do with his own arms, but eventually he slid them over Jett's shoulders, fingers picking at the collar of Jett's jacket.

They swayed languidly, _tamely_ to the music. No matter how insistent Jett's hands were on bringing the other man close to him, he kept his distance. Jett was beginning to get frustrated, wondering if this effort was going to lead anywhere with someone this anti.

Good lord, what if he was a _virgin_? Jett groaned lowly at the possibility. It was a risk he ran with the type of bedmate he preferred.

"My name's Logan, by the way," the no-longer-nameless stranger said.

"Jett," returned Jett with a grumble, momentarily less preoccupied with seduction. There was no point in wasting his charm on someone he wouldn't end up drilling by the end of the night.

Logan wrapped his arms around Jett's neck, fingertips grazing lightly against it. "I realize that I'm being a bit immalleable at the moment." Jett couldn't have stated it better himself. "I just want to make sure you're clear that I _do _expect for this to lead to us…" the fingers on his neck jittered around; Jett could only guess he was gesturing something. "You know…"

"Fucking?" Jett supplied hopefully.

Logan cringed at the term, but nodded. "Yes, having sexual intercourse. I don't want there to be any confusion as to my intentions."

The pounding in Jett's head had become a reality. "So...you're definitely saying we're going to have sex by the end of the night?"

"Yes."

"Then could you _act _like it?" the taller brunet finally brought their bodies together, arms encircling the other's waist, and it was as wonderful as Jett knew it would be, because he could feel the fit physique Logan had hiding underneath his club-inappropriate clothing and, oh yes, he could work with it. He had a great eye for quality, this he knew. Logan blushed a bit but did not object, melding his form against Jett's properly.

As nice as it was, it wasn't the sexually-charged grinding that Jett was going for. No, he wanted the other patrons to fall out of beat in their own dances because he and Logan were the _oh my Gods look at those two sexy guys basically fucking in the middle of the room I wish we were them I hope they brought protection_ kind of couple.

He admitted to himself long ago that he was an exhibitionist. It apparently came bundled with his love of attention.

These thoughts in mind, Jett let his hands casually slip in into the back pockets of Logan's perfectly creased beige slacks, fingers digging into the clothed, pliant flesh beneath. Jett smiled approvingly and dug his fingers in a bit more, forcing Logan's hips to press against his in a bit of heavenly friction. Logan's breath hitched audibly, which may or may not have been erotic _at all_ but Jett's dick was too giddy to care. Already the bulge in his jeans was growing hard from the sparse amount of contact.

"You…know we're in _public,_ right?" Logan hissed, glancing around to make sure no one saw their actions. He was certainly nervous, Jett noted, but he was neither angry nor uncomfortable with it, which Jett took as a positive sign.

He dropped his head to the crook of Logan's neck, lips curling devilishly against pale skin. Logan shivered slightly from the sensation, only making Jett's smile widen. "Why yes, I think I do," he murmured, making sure his lips brushed lightly over Logan's skin with every word.

Logan made a small squeak in the back of his throat – _why_ did Jett find that so incredibly erotic? – and shifted his pelvis just a fraction of an inch, but enough to unintentionally grind their arousals further. Logan groaned shortly, "And you don't…think this is a little bit inappropriate? Maybe we should attempt this _somewhere else_?"

Jett hummed lowly but offered no coherent answer – possibly because he decided to ignore Logan for the time being, opting instead to let his hand drift down the other boy's thigh and lift it slightly, using the position to press them impossibly closer together. He peppered light kisses over the neck exposed to him, resisting the heavy urge to suck and nip at the blank canvas of skin _begging _to be marked red. He'd save the task for later.

Tearing his focus away from Logan's neck, Jett's eyes glances around at the other patrons of the bar to find that, yes, some _were _paying avid attention to their activities – more than the usual that followed the actions of he and his multiple partners, possibly attributed to the new partner he was currently groping. He smirked to himself, a familiar feeling stirring in his lower stomach from having all eyes on him.

Ever the crowd-pleaser, Jett tightened his grip on Logan's ass and lewdly trailed his tongue from Logan's neck up to his ear, stopping to trace the shell of his ear and nibble at his earlobe with a growl that _may_ have been over the top. Logan didn't seem to mind too much, if the stilted grunts and hands running through Jett's perfectly styled hair were any hint.

At least, that's what Jett thought, until the hands tugged at his scalp roughly enough to pull him back with a pained yip. "I _insist_ that we move this elsewhere, preferably somewhere private." Logan grounded out. Jett glared down at him, peeved at having his fabulous mane mussed. Jett guessed that either something else was bothering Logan or he was dangerously adept at hiding his anger.

Then, something in Logan's words hit him.

Somewhere _private._

All annoyance – as well as his public – forgotten, Jett released Logan and narrowed his eyes at the shorter man. "And by somewhere private, do you mean…_somewhere private?_" he questioned, fearing bodily harm should he misinterpret anything else.

Logan furrowed his eyebrows at the repetition. "Uh, yes? I don't think that can be misconstrued, unless this bar has any areas reserved for specific activities," he stood on the tips of his toes and tried to see over the crowd. "I guess it's for the best," Logan sighed, pouting when he wasn't able to see a thing. "I'd prefer if we went to my apartment anyway, seeing as I've already made the necessary preparations on off chance that I was able…"

After successfully tuning Logan out, Jett's gaze dropped to his inviting mobile lips, mind immediately returning to _pleasant_ thoughts. He imagined how far he could bite into those lips, how they'd feel wrapped around his dick. Jett wanted nothing more than to have Logan's dark eyes staring up at him, wide and curious, while he took every inch of Jett's length into his warm, hungry mouth. Already he could feel the flat of Logan's tongue run along the underside of him as he took him deeper and deeper, almost as if trying to swallow all of him down.

Just the vivid image was enough to nearly drive Jett wild. He groaned and shifted against the uncomfortably tight material of his jeans, cursing both his flawless fashion sense and _Logan_. Never before had any one-time of his had such an effect on him, _especially_ one who didn't appear to know the first thing about seduction.

Logan's outfit covered nearly every inch of his skin and left _everything_ to the imagination, he looked no one in the eye and avoided touching anyone as well, he droned on like one of Jett's decrepit professors from his college years, and he seemed to treat sex as more of a science project than anything else.

Gods, Jett wanted him.

With a grin, Jett slung an arm over Logan's shoulders – managing to simultaneously end Logan's babbling, and led them toward the bar entrance, shouldering people out of his way in the process. Old habits die hard.

"Is it really necessary to shove everyone all the time?" Logan asked, mouthing an apology to the scowling lesbian couple whose dance had been completely thrown off by the collision.

Jett gave him libidinous smirk, which _again_ had no visible effect. "If they're standing in the way of me and your bedroom, it's an absolute necessity." Logan wasn't very impressed with the answer, but didn't say another word on the matter.

When they made it out into the fresh night air, Logan informed him – for the _second _time, since apparently Jett had missed important parts of his monologue – that he had taken a cab to the bar, so Jett was happily inclined to drive to Logan's place.

After sneering covertly at a drag queen hanging outside whose eyes had roved appreciatively over Logan's form, Jett grabbed Logan and made his way to his car – which, although it was a fairly expensive high-end model, failed to impress Logan – parked far away from any others in the lot for fear of drunken drivers.

Jett, oddly occupied with the idea of winning Logan over _despite_ the fact that he already been guaranteed sex, opened the passenger door for the other man, an action which he thought to be quite chivalrous. Logan however only tilted his head with an analytical expression before getting in.

The rest of the drive, under Logan's direction, turned out to be no better.

Typically, Jett preferred silence – accompanied with brief make out session at long red lights and hands diving in between legs – while he drove with his future bedmate, but already he could see that Logan wasn't the type for that. Instead, the shorter man preferred to look over everything in plain sight in the car, as if he was committing it all to memory or deducing random things.

Things that should mean nothing.

It wasn't the only thing out of the ordinary. For every suggestive line or _clever_ innuendo Jett offered Logan's way, the intelligent man remained obstinate, preferring to disprove or unravel or frown at _every single word_ that came out of Jett's mouth instead of melting into a pile of Jett-loving goo _as he should have_. What made it worse was that Logan was completely oblivious to what a killboner he was being; his answers were nothing but genuine and spontaneous.

When Jett related Logan's eyes to pools of dark, delicious chocolate that he wanted to drown in, Logan hummed and replied that he wasn't a huge fan of chocolate because _blah blah blah._ When Jett called his skin as beautiful as the moonlight, Logan talked about his worry of his low melanin production in high exposure to sunlight being a _blah blah_.

Logan was lucky he was so attractive, because at Jett's frustration level, he would have kicked anyone else out of his car. It shouldn't have been so difficult to lure him in, and it was killing Jett's pride. He was torn between wanting to throttle the man and wanting to kiss him until both their lips ached and Logan was too far gone to protest any wooing.

From the few moments when Jett decided to pay attention to Logan's long-winded explanation, he learned that Logan was a year older than him, that he owned a rare male calico cat, and that he had a Bachelor's degree in Biophysics.

It figured that he was some sort of scientist, Jett muttered inwardly.

The next left brought the car into the half-empty front lot of an apartment complex, not far from the bar. Logan emerged from the car, back to fiddling with the hem of his cardigan anxiously and furrowing his brow at the entrance of the building, as if he to curse the building for being so close. Jett regarded him quietly for a moment, trying to determine why the blathering had ceased in favor of silence.

When Jett circled the car until he reached the back, directly in Logan's line of sight, Logan's eyes refused to meet his, and it was pretty easy to tell what was wrong.

"You're having second thoughts, aren't you?" Jett blurted out more harshly than he'd intended. Logan flinched noticeably, but didn't say a word. "I'll be damned if I gave you a free ride to your place for jack-shit," he complained, then immediately regretted his words. He knew what he'd said had been particularly foul when Logan offered no glare, no lecture, not even a _hmph_ in return. His brown eyes simply dropped to the gravel.

Jett leaned back against the trunk of his car, trying to figure out his next course of action. He wouldn't apologize – Jett Stetson _didn't apologize._ He wouldn't leave either. He didn't necessarily feel he was owed anything, but if this was something he could fix with his limited people skills, he would, and not _just_ because he was frightfully horny. There was something else that he couldn't exactly identify, that he wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to identify.

There were several important boundaries that weren't meant to be crossed in one-night stand scenarios. One, names weren't supposed to be shared – though he often disregarded this, as hearing his name stuttered out in breathy moans while pounding someone into a mattress was an absolute treat. Two, never give a phone number, just in case your partner took something heavy and brief too seriously. Three, never give out any personal information. Fourth, and definitely most important, _never care_.

So when the next words slipped from his mouth, he was already down two for four. "Is there anything you want to…share, or something?" he asked, trying to remember what sentimentality sounded like. All he knew was that Logan loved to prattle on and on, so there had to be _something_ he wanted to say.

"Um…" Logan shuffled around until he was near Jett, and then hopped up to sit on the trunk of the car. Jett twitched, positive that he hadn't given Logan clearance to sit on _his_ car. "I'm not so sure that I want my first–well, my first _homosexual_ time to be a one-night stand with a man I barely know," Logan turned to Jett with an unreadable face, loafers kicking the air absently. "It's not very fair for me to use you like this, and it doesn't guarantee me a result. I'm pretty sure there's something in the nonexistent book of moral codes that strictly prohibits using humans as test subjects to satiate your own selfish inquisitions. I mean sure, sometimes opposing sides argue that an essential casualty of scientific exploration is the occasional breach of morality, but in most of the cases where this was a factor, it was meant to further human knowledge for the benefit of our posterity, not just to…"

And he was back to nervous babbling, something Jett needed to stop immediately. "So what you're _saying_" Jett raised his voice, startling Logan out of his ramblings, "is that you're worried about being unfair to me because you're using me for sex?"

Logan nodded, and Jett honestly couldn't find the logic in any of it, because in his book, he was definitely getting his fair due – not in the _performance_ category, since Logan most likely wouldn't know what he was doing. Was the sex guaranteed to be terrible? Was he going to be murdered afterward? Would Logan reveal that he was pregnant nine months after the deed?

Jett shuddered more at the thought of having a child than at the thought of a pregnant male.

"It wouldn't be meaningless, mind you," Logan continued on, making Jett twitch again with the fear of another speech. "It would help me…figure out a few things." The intelligent brunet leaned back slightly on the car, eyes scanning over the stars dotting the dark sky with a look of nostalgia. "Back at university – my second year, I think – my roommate Kendall and I experimented with a few things. Nothing serious, only kissing and, uh…" he blushed and made a small motion with a fisted hand. Jett resisted the urge to giggle like a schoolchild at the inappropriate gesture.

"Kissing him was so much different from kissing any girl, much more so than I expected it to be…not to mention he was _really _excellent at it, top notch," Logan recalled with a wistful grin, and the smile fell from Jett's lips. Even though he hadn't kissed Logan _yet_, he still didn't appreciate anyone besides him being called top notch. That notch was especially reserved for Jett Stetson.

Then he remembered to listen to Logan who was still talking, because what he was currently saying was mildly important. "Since then, I can't stop thinking about those times with Kendall, and I can't pursue any relationship with a woman without thinking of how it would it be different with a man, which is detrimental to any healthy relationship. So I thought that, maybe if I could solidify things with…," his fingernails drummed against the trunk as he sought out the appropriate words, "…the _full _experience, I could ascertain my exact sexuality."

Jett frowned at one of the buttons of Logan's cardigan. "Well, you have someone willing to _give_ you that full experience, with plenty of expertise, mind you," he grinned pointedly, perhaps showing too many perfect teeth, "and you're turning him down at the last second." He wondered if Logan knew what a tease he was.

"That isn't the point," Logan shook his head. "I made a hasty decision and chose a path that I couldn't handle in the end. It wouldn't be fair to you if–"

"_Fair?_" Jett interrupted with a disdainful scoff, enough to make Logan flinch and stare with surprise, but Jett didn't care. He was finished listening to Logan speak as if he knew what was fair for _him_. "I'm wholly convinced that you don't know the meaning of that word," he spat out.

At first, he surmised that his annoyance stemmed from feelings of Logan being indebted to him, or that his pride was wounded from having his perfect 'record of seduction' tarnished, or that his _second brain_ was suddenly controlling what shot out from his mouth, options that were more his speed, but it wasn't any of that. He could feel in his fingers, fingers that _itched _to touch Logan, that it wasn't any of that.

Whatever it was, he was in dangerous territory, far away from his safe haven of romantic asceticism.

And he couldn't stop himself.

Logan looked ready to protest, to say how ludicrous the accusation was and give the denotation of the word with a few synonyms and antonyms thrown in for extra credit, but Jett was already on the move. He pushed himself off the vehicle and took hold of Logan's thighs, tugging and prying them apart to fit himself in between them. Logan flailed briefly at the shift in balance before settling his hands on Jett's shoulders.

"Why don't you let me," Jett tugged Logan again, leaning on seated man's thighs to bring their faces close together, "decide what's fair to me _after _tonight?" Then he was leaning in closer, eyes drifting down from Logan's wide ones, down the redness dusted over his pale cheeks, to his lips, parted and moist from the anxious way a tongue darted out to lave over them.

"I-I don't think you understand," Logan peeped out, but he didn't back away, and Jett only continued drawing near. He was so close to the full lips he'd been fantasizing all night, the ones he just _had_ to make sure were as soft as they appeared. Logan's warm, stuttering breaths fanned across his face, and Jett watched the other man's eyelids flutter shut in anticipation, a feeling that was mutual between them at current. And just as their lips were about to make contact–

"_Oooh_, Logan, get that dick!"

The voice startled both men, causing Jett to jump back and Logan to slide off the car and fall to the ground on his backside with a yelp. Jett was too preoccupied to help Logan up, scowling at the intruder – a tall, attractive brunet man standing in the apartment building doorway, keys in hand. He preferred that his audience kept _silent_ during the show.

Logan jumped to feet quickly, dusting off his slacks with uneasy laughter. "Oh, hello there, uh, James!" he greeted squeakily with a phony grin. "Jett, this is my good friend and neighbor, James. James, this is Jett, my…" the grin fell as he tried to think of what exactly Jett _was_ to him, "…new friend."

James' expression was one of disbelief, so he turned to Jett with knowing eyes. "Fuck buddy?"

Jett shrugged easily, "More or less, yes." Logan gawked at him, but Jett wasn't concerned, as it was never in his nature to hide his sexual exploits. There wasn't a point in hiding anyway; Jett planned on having the entire building aware of their activities with the sounds Logan would make. He smirked and rubbed his palms together absentmindedly, uncaring if he appeared outwardly scheming.

"It's about time. Here I was thinking he was just a prude," James said with a salacious grin in Logan's direction, to the other man's horror.

"I thought the same, but he's definitely more eager than he looks," Jett nodded, and the two taller brunets shared an amiable chuckle at the expense of the shortest.

Logan made a strangled sound in the back of throat and attempted to hide his face from view.

"You two coming in or what?" James held the door to the building open. A red-faced Logan nodded gripped Jett's hand, dragging him quickly through the door and into a small carpeted stairwell. James let the door shut behind them and went off on his merry way.

With the distraction gone, Jett was sure that they'd return to where they left off outside – up against a wall was perfectly fine for him – but Logan was already trotting up the steps, so Jett was temporarily content with following the swell of Logan's backside while he trailed after him. It didn't quell his impatience to tease himself with the treat in front of him, but he'd been nothing if not masochistic for the entire night.

Then, Logan was stopping abruptly, and Jett almost ran into his back. Logan spun around to face Jett, unaware of the potential collision he'd caused. "Sometimes, I dance to Beyoncé music."

…what?

"What?" Jett voiced his confusion with a scrunched up face, because _what?_ He couldn't think of any part of their conversation that the sudden announcement could've stemmed from, and he was positive that he'd been paying full attention to Logan for awhile now – an amazing feat in itself.

"Well, I was thinking that perhaps this experience would be less awkward if we knew some things about each other, random things. Nothing really important, of course, but just…more? So, I'm telling you that sometimes, I put on music from Beyoncé and dance to it," Logan explained, fingers scratching at the wooden banister.

"Are you mad?" Jett asked with absolute seriousness, but Logan didn't let up, looking at him with expectant eyes. Jett knew that this was the moment to deny him, to let Logan know that he wasn't willing to cross one of the lines that separated pseudo-anonymous sex from personal relations, to hang on to the final shreds of romantic isolation that he'd spent years on.

Only, he didn't _want_ to tell Logan any of those things. He was curious about what other inane things the odd man did – the thought of Logan working his hips to energetic R&B music was a plus. He wanted to know if they had anything in common, or if they differed on any extreme issues. He also wanted to let Logan know something about himself, hopefully something that would _finally_ impress him.

And it scared Jett how much he still wanted to impress Logan.

"…alright then," Jett started, wracking his brain to find something that was interesting and unrevealing _and_ made him look good – no, _great_. He needed to look great, but not too obvious. Logan would catch on to the obvious. "In my high school drama club's production of _Hairspray_, I played the role of Edna Turnblad."

Logan took on a blank expression, making Jett think he would have to explain musical theatre to yet another of the uncultured public, until he heard a muffled snort from the other man, which evolved into what sounded like an attempt to hold back laughter. He figured out what was going through Logan's head at that point – images of him in drag.

"How did you do? Were you good?"

Jett sniffed haughtily and crossed his arms, "Of course! I was the best damn Edna that stage will ever see. Reviews raved about my performance, and rightfully so." He didn't tell Logan that the only review the musical received was from the school's seldom read newspaper, but his performance _was_ praised. That counted, right?

Pleased with the tale, Logan flashed him a crooked grin before he resumed climbing the steps. It wasn't exactly _fawning_, but it was a start, and there was so much more to discover behind that grin. Jett's heart swelled just a little.

A few more steps up, and Logan paused and turned again. "My real name isn't Logan." Jett tensed, a sliver of dread seeping into him. Had he been lied to for the entire night? Were any of the things Logan had said were true? What if everything Logan had said so far had just been read off cue cards or prompted by someone constantly in the background behind a bush holding up posters telling him what to say?

And since when did it matter if it was his name? Jett glowered at Logan's back ruefully, regretting ever having bothered cozying up the treacherous, lying scum of a–

"James – the tall guy you just met, when I met his mom years back, she didn't exactly like my name, so she decided to change it to Logan and…yeah. I'm Logan."

As quickly as it had come, the anger was gone, replaced by disbelief – pleasant disbelief from knowing Logan wasn't a liar. Strange, yes, but not a liar. "You let a woman you barely knew change your name?"

"You've never met her," Logan paled, which was frightening for someone with his skin tone. "She's very persuasive."

Jett was skeptical, but let the issue go. "What's your _real_ name then?"

"Hortense."

After a second of humming thoughtfully for dramatic effect, "She made a good call," Jett nodded. The shorter man frowned, bottom lip jutting out only slightly, but enough to catch Jett's focus. Already his hands were reaching forward to take hold of Logan's hips to drag him down for the searing kiss that had been interrupted.

True to his killboner nature, however, Logan again turned and continued up the stairs, leaving Jett to grasp at thin air like a fool. Jett twitched in irritation and followed close behind. The faster they got up the seemingly endless flight of stairs, the faster he got to those lips. While they climbed, they continued to share whatever things came to mind.

"In the fifth grade, my authentic functioning volcano for the science fair burned most of my hair off."

"I can't feel a thing in my right pinky toe."

"I own a calico cat – a rare male one at that. You see, because the gene that determines the cat's color is located on the–"

"You've explained this to me already, Logan."

One flight.

"Really?"

"_Really_."

"Huh, I don't remember that. Well, um, I'm an only child."

"I dislike almost everyone who isn't me."

"I kind of guessed that. You glare at everyone a lot."

"It's not my fault. People should change themselves more to fit my standards."

Two flights.

"I'll just pretend that makes sense. I've only left the country once. To visit Greece."

"Why in heaven's name would you go there?"

"It's interesting! I was even able to visit the science and technology museum in Thessaloniki. You haven't lived until you've seen the solar system in at least three different countries."

"Mind numbingly interesting, _I'm sure_, but I think I'll pass. I don't eat poultry."

"I wore a head brace until the seventh grade – _hey_! Don't laugh! It's not funny."

"No, I'm positive that it's funny."

"I got picked on a lot for that. My teeth weren't that bad, but my mom thought they needed _extra care_, just in case."

"If it helps, they're perfect now."

"…thanks."

Three flights and they were stopped in front of a door.

"I'm for team Edward."

Logan threw a horrified look over his shoulder, only half serious. "You should be ashamed. Team Jacob is where it's at," he said with mock disgust and pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket. Jett smiled, less at the _Twilight_-related opposition and more at _how_ _close they were to a bedroom._ He literally pushed Logan inside the apartment once the door was open, ignoring the glare he received for the rush as the door was locked behind him.

His eyes roamed over the sparsely decorated area once Logan turned on the light. There were almost no pictures, every piece of furniture had the same off-white color scheme, and it was so clean that it looked as if no one had set foot in room in years. The only signs of life were a lively green plant on the couch's end table, the television set, and a few biophysics manuals scattered on the glass coffee table.

Jett was indistinctly worried.

Beside him, Logan removed his shoes on a mat beside the door, bidding Jett do the same. "Sorry for the mess," Logan fidgeted and moved to grab the manuals from the table, stacking them up in his arms. "One minute," he said before disappearing into another room.

Jett wrinkled his nose, but didn't protest. Protesting only added more time to his wait, and as an impatient man who'd had his share of trials that night, Jett wasn't up to it. Instead, he walked around the apartment's living area, taking in what little there was to be seen.

On the end table in front of the plant, there was a framed photograph of a younger Logan with three other men. Jett recognized one of them as James.

He came up with two conclusions from the picture. One, the blond man in the photo had dreadfully unfortunate hair. Two, Logan's lips were just as plump then as they were now.

A soft _meow_ snapped him from Logan's tantalizing mouth. He looked down to see a colorful kitten staring up at him with wide eyes, head surely too big for its little body. After setting down the picture, he bent to scoop up the animal in his arm, swirling his index finger around its nose while it tried to tap at his finger with its small paws and rubbed its ears against his sport coat.

Jett Stetson liked cats. It wasn't because they were small and soft and fuzzy or whatever drivel others liked them for. They were refined, clean, and didn't slobber on your hands if you tried to touch them. They didn't require much love or attention to maintain, only the finest of necessities. They didn't take orders or respond to given names unless it was in their interest to.

They reminded him of himself.

"His name's Carlitos," Logan spoke with a fond smile from his position in the doorway to what appeared to be his bedroom. _His bedroom._ "That's my nickname for the friend who gave him to me."

Jett loosened his grip on the kitten, letting it leap naturally from his arms onto the back of the couch, to the cushions, and down to the carpet before it sprinted away. "Are you ready?" Jett asked with veiled excitement, excitement he shouldn't have had with all things considered.

Logan nodded and went back into the bedroom, Jett hot on his heels. As suspected, the color scheme in the bedroom was no different from the rest of the apartment, but it didn't matter to Jett, as long as the best was comfy. Soft and with no springs was preferred.

"So, I have everything prepared for this," Logan said, voice back to its nervous quality. He rifled through his top nightstand drawer until he pulled out a few papers, then pushed the papers into Jett hands.

Not sure what to expect, Jett scanned over one of the sheets with a quick eye. From his skimming, he knew that it was some sort of medical note, one that he didn't feel like reading when he could have been fucking the anxious man in front of him. "What are these for?"

"They're medical records from my recent check-up to show that I'm all clean," Logan shrugged. "I also have standard lubricant, condoms of various sizes, a pair of handcuffs, two prosthetic penises, a leather boot, and before I left today I made sure to employ an anal d–"

"_Please_ be quiet," Jett interrupted – sure that he didn't want to hear about any of Logan's preparation – and threw the papers off to the side. He took a few steps forward until he was directly in front of Logan, and yes, this time he _wouldn't_ be denied. "None of this dreck."

"No?" frowned the shorter man.

"_No_."

"Then…what?"

With a smirk, Jett brought a hand up to slide over Logan's shoulder and grip the back of his neck. "This," he said simply before bringing Logan's face toward his so he could _finally_ attack those lips.

It was well worth the wait, because Logan's lips were more than he'd imagined them to be up that point; they were as soft and plush as they looked, without a doubt the softest he'd ever experienced, pliant underneath his more demanding lips, lightly chapped even as the tip of his tongue ran across them. Logan hadn't even moved them an inch yet, and already Jett found himself enjoying the kiss too much, lips tingling from the tiny sparks the contact sent.

Until Logan's mouth began to work with his and Jett had to remember that this was _not_ a virgin. The shorter man's fingers took hold of Jett's jacket to drag him closer while his lips moved in perfect sync with the other's, sliding over them languidly and sucking on and pecking at. His fingers began to unbutton the jacket, moving as adeptly as his lips did.

Responding with equal fervor, Jett's hands came to cup Logan's face, thumbs rubbing circles into his cheeks while his teeth nibbled at the prominent lower lip he'd had his eye on from first sight. His teeth sunk into it, earning a throaty noise from Logan that went directly to his rapidly hardening cock. He bit at and sucked on and lapped over the lip, repeating several times to make sure he wasn't imagining how much pleasure it got to worry at the lip as Logan did. It was completely unfair for only Logan to be able to play with it.

Logan's hands undid all the buttons and moved Jett's arms so he could shove the jacket off, making sure to keep their mouths connected while his fingers moved over the taller man's arms. Jett was less caring about Logan's attire, preferring to grip the damned cardigan's edges and nearly rip the thing off, causing one of the buttons to pop off as he dragged it down and off. Logan grunted in disappointment. Jett decided he'd soothe that with pleasure.

And then Logan's lips wrapped around his tongue and sucked earnestly until Jett forgot what he was suppose to sooth. Their hands roamed over each other's bodies despite the protective layers of clothing, enthusiastically exploring every dip and bump and hard plane there was to be found. Jett learned that his favorite places to put his hands on Logan were his hips, his hard chest, and on his bulge pressing innocently against the fabric his slacks, wanting to be let free.

The unfortunate need for air came, and the men separated. Once Jett's mind cleared and he remembered _who _and _where_ he was, he took in Logan's flushed cheeks, bruised lips and lust hazed eyes with a pleased smirk. "Better than your Kendall friend?"

Even with a foggy mind, the other man was able to kill his joy – fortunately not his erection. "No," Logan answered with a dreamy voice, shaking his head. "But you are exceptional yourself, if it makes you feel better."

Jett pouted, because no, it _didn't_ make him feel any better knowing someone was above him, and it meant he still had to prove himself. The only good part about it was that it meant he was required to kiss Logan more. With this, he sought out the other man's lips once more, dragging Logan's lower half forward by the belt loops of his slacks to grind their erections together, happily welcoming back the friction but cursing his choice of trousers.

Logan pulled back again, leaving Jett's mouth to seek air for a moment. The intelligent brunet smiled and tugged at his own shirt to remove the clothing. Catching on, Jett removed his belt and pulled off his own shirt hastily, tossing them with the rest of their discarded clothes. His green eyes brightened at the sight of Logan's revealed skin, pleased that the pallor extended all over the toned body. He would finally get the chance to paint his canvas.

"I think we should take this chance to evaluate–"

Logan was beginning to speak again, which meant that staring time was over and he'd have to act fast to make the other man shut away any godforsaken speeches. Jett wrapped his arms around Logan's waist – both of them shivering unexpectedly at the contact of their heated flesh – before he seated himself on the edge of the bed, pulling Logan so the shorter brunet straddled his waist with both knees on the bed. If nothing else, it effectively ended the potential tirade.

His tongue found the familiar skin of Logan's neck, the wet muscle leaving trails of saliva in its wake with each rough lap, earning him a selection of shuddered breaths from the other man. Logan's fingernails dug into Jett's shoulders and he squirmed in his lap from the sensation, unwittingly rubbing the swell of his backside against Jett's clothed dick. Jett hissed into his neck. The jeans were killing him and he regretted not removing them prior to disrupting Logan.

Sensing the distress, Logan sat up on his knees and leaned back in Jett's arms as best he could to reach the zipper of the jeans – which was _remarkably_ _well_, Jett noted, delighted that Logan was flexible. Measured and careful, Logan peeled the zipper down until Jett's cock was free from the restriction, now only covered by the flimsy material of his underwear.

Crisis avoided, Jett tightened his hold and leaned down to nip at Logan at the taut plane of Logan's stomach, teeth grazing and lips suctioning flesh until it was bright and bruised, then running his tongue over the area.

The muscles of Logan's stomach contracted briefly and the shorter man straightened himself back up, trying weakly to pull Jett's head up from his stomach. "Don't – _hah! _– don't do that!" he whined with hitched laughter, fingers threading into Jett's chestnut locks. Jett grinned wickedly but let up, considering making use of the sensitivity later on.

"Take them off," Jett grunted and released Logan, trying to remove his own trousers – which was more difficult than usual with a spasmodic lapful of man doing the same. Several annoyed grumbles and curses later, mostly from Jett, both men were clad only in underwear and Logan contently returned to the taller brunet's lap, erection pushing against Jett's stomach.

Jett's fingers clutched and rubbed at the newly exposed skin of Logan's thighs, hands periodically traveling into the legs of the boxers to squeeze at Logan's backside. Similarly, Logan's hands ran up and down Jett's chest, more curious than anything, fingernails occasional raking over his nipples and sending signals of pleasure shooting through his body.

Done with exploration for the moment, Jett's gaze rose to Logan's face, taking in the wide, calculating eyes staring down at him in wonder, the redness dusted over fair cheeks, and the _lips_ slightly parted and moist and asking to have something hard put between them so they could be put to work.

It was a request he was obliged to comply with.

"Blow me," Jett ordered before surging forward to lick lewdly at Logan's taunting lips and giving them a loving peck.

Logan snapped out of whatever he was pondering, "What?"

"_Blow_." He punctuated with a kiss. "_Me_." Another kiss.

"No," Logan said with a frown.

Nearly every illusion of happiness shattered for Jett at the answer, so he pulled back with an incredulous expression. "_No_?"

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'?" Jett's grasped Logan's hips and pushed him back just a tad, contemplating whether or not he should shove the man out of his lap for _stomping all over his dreams with cleats_, dreams that included having the softest pair of lips slurp on his cock with plenty of filthy sounds as if dear life depended on it. How could Logan deny him that?

Logan held onto Jett's shoulders to keep his balance, quirking an eyebrow at the man he was seated on. "I _mean_ that I'm not going to perform oral services on your genitals, if that clarifies."

Jett couldn't help the way he cringed, because that was the _worst_ dirty talk he'd ever heard. "First off, you need to work on dirty talk." He received a blink in response. "Second, _why not?"_ he whined.

"Why did you think I would?" Logan narrowed brown eyes at him, and Jett was struck. There was no feasible reason for the other man to give him a blowjob beyond the fact that his lips were _made for it._

So he told him as such. "Because _these_," he brought his index finger up to poke both of Logan's lips, "would look perfect around _this_," he swirled the same finger around his still throbbing dick, sure that the message was clear.

Logan pursed those same lips, almost as if to say _entry denied_. "Well, they're not going to be doing anything involving _that_, so just stop thinking about it. You wouldn't be missing much anyway."

"What are you, anti-head? Have you ever even been blown before?" Jett continued, not completely willing to let the fantasy go.

He received a shrug in response. "Nothing extraordinary, it was more of a…slobbery mess than anything stimulating. I can do without."

Jett snorted, "Maybe that's because it wasn't done well." As soon as the words left his mouth, an idea clicked in his head. While it was light-years away from the way he initially wanted to impress Logan, proving that Jett Stetson was top notch took top priority. Just as well, should his performance stir well enough, there was a chance Logan would reconsider his no-blow policy and return the favor in the future.

He didn't dwell on the definition _future_, or how the word implied that there would be a repeat of their time together.

Jett's arms slid around the other man's waist before he stood to his feet, causing Logan to wrap his legs around Jett in surprise. Jett deposited the other man unceremoniously on the edge of the bed, ignoring the indignant cry of "Hey!" that flew from Logan's mouth while he bounced on his back.

He was on a mission. Injuries would happen.

Sinking to his knees between Logan's legs, Jett yanked at Logan's underwear until the brunet got the hint and shimmied out of them. Disgruntled at being manhandled, Logan sat up, unabashed even though he was now bare to the world, something Jett appreciated in both respects.

"What do you think you're do-_ohh_," the pallid brunet's words disintegrated when Jett's hand wrapped around the shaft of his cock tightly, squeezing just hard enough to stop any complaints. Satisfied with the reaction, Jett leaned forward and lapped at the weeping head, tasting the salty fluid of pre-leak on his tongue. He trailed wet kisses along the sides and undersides and blew warm air on the velvety skin.

Logan let out a choked breath, fingers gripping the white bed spread tightly and hooded eyes staring into Jett's. Motivated by Logan's positive feedback, the prospect of excelling at a _performance_, and the unusual delight stirring in own loins at the weight of someone's – no, not someone's, _Logan's_ cock on his tongue, Jett went further than planned.

His hands held the other man's thighs stationary as his lips enveloped the tip of his dick, sucking gingerly and rolling his tongue over and around it before his head stooped down to take more in. As predicted, Logan's hips attempted to buck into the moist heat of Jett's mouth, but the hands held firm. Jett knew he would have to tease the man about his prior stubborn attitude later.

As Jett was bobbing his head up and down into Logan's lap, focused entirely on his task, something on the floor near them caught his eye. Pausing with just the head of Logan's cock in his mouth, he glanced over to see the colorful kitten from earlier sitting near Logan's leg, staring at them with a tilted head as if it was aware of _exactly_ what naughty deeds they were committing.

Jett glared at the animal, willing it to go away with eyes. He wouldn't be comfortable with the innocent beast present, like he would taint it even though it couldn't comprehend what they were doing. The cat didn't catch the _signals_ Jett sent with his eyes, so he decided he no longer liked cats. They reminded him _too much_ of himself.

He pulled the dick from his mouth, hearing an unhappy groan above, and moved to push the kitten out of the room with his hand. Seeing him approach, the cat skittered out of the room as quick as its paws could carry it.

"Were you planning on hitting Carlitos?" Logan accused in a disapproving tone, voice husky and low.

"No, I wasn't going to hit it," Jett rolled his eyes, mood only slightly ruined from the intrusion. "The thing–"

"_Carlitos_."

"–was just sitting there watching us, and I will _not_ be judged by a cat," the irritable brunet grumbled and stood, erection poking noticeably against his boxers. He waltzed over to the nightstand drawer Logan rifled through earlier and opened it. Inside were a few folded documents, condoms, lubricant, a leather boot – _everything_ Logan had listed before.

He pulled out the pair of handcuffs and one of dildos and eyed them with interest, before deciding the thoughts running rampant in his head were too hardcore for the time being.

"You know, in Greek, the word for dildo is _olisbos_, which literally translates to–"

"Do not giveth a shit," Jett muttered distractedly to the chatty man behind him, plucking out an appropriate condom and the small bottle of lubrication before shutting the drawer. "You want to prepare yourself, or should I?" he held up the plastic bottle invitingly.

Logan flushed and held out his hands. "I-I'll do it, I suppose."

Mildly disappointed, Jett tossed him the bottle. He shed his own boxers, letting out a small startled moan when cool air hit his heated erection. He pretended to be completely concentrated on applying the condom to give Logan a semblance of privacy, though he watched with keen interest from his peripherals, absently slipping on the condom as he had done plenty of times before.

Logan had his sights fixed on the bottle in his hand as if it were a mystery that he had to solve. He flipped open the bottled top and poured a liberal amount on his fingers and looked around the surface of the bed. He decided on something after a moment and dropped the bottle off the side of the bed before lying on his back and propping his legs up, unknowingly displaying everything to the room's other occupant.

Jett's hand that had applied the condom now leisurely stroked his cock, enticed by the sight of having the somewhat inexperienced brunet ready himself. Logan's lubricant-coated fingers slid down his midsection, past his stiff cock and down to his exposed hole, circling around the ring of muscle briefly to slicken it for easy passage until his middle finger slipped in.

Jett's eyes switched between watching the finger push into Logan's ass and watching the expressions that crossed Logan's face.

The first and most prominent was one of discomfort, while he slid the first finger in, wiggling it around experimentally. Had Jett not been so entranced by the erotic sight, he would have smiled at the way Logan grimaced or wrinkled his nose with displeasure at the foreign feeling. Soon enough he was adding another finger and one more to that, the muscles in his arm contracting with effort of stretching himself out.

The second was one of unexpected pleasure along with curiosity, and Jett figured that he must have found that special spot along his passage. Seconds later, he found the spot again, entire body jerking with it and eyes fluttering shut. Another beat passed and his body jerked a second time, this time a hoarse moan accompanying it.

Jett felt he'd waited long enough.

Eyes still trained on the self-pleasuring man, Jett crawled onto the bed, grinning inwardly at how Logan's eyes snapped open and his face colored red, seeming to only now remember that someone else was in the room. Jett grabbed the back of Logan's knees, folding the flexible man without a batted eyelash until he was nearly doubled over. He lined his erection up with Logan's puckered hole before meeting Logan's apprehensive gaze.

"Ready?" he asked. Logan inhaled deeply to calm himself before nodding. Jett's hips moved forward until he could feel the very tip of his length pressing against Logan's entrance. He applied more force until the resistance gave and the head of his cock penetrated. A sound of pain fell from Logan's pursed lips, and his hands tightened on Jett's biceps.

"Come on, relax," Jett commanded softly, leaning down to connect their lips, tangling their tongues together to distract from the any ache. He continued to slip into the lubricated passage slowly, inch by inch until he was halfway embedded inside the other man, then he paused.

Logan's grunts still assaulted his ears and hummed through his mouth. "This isn't going to feel pleasant," he murmured against Logan's lips, the only warning he gave before he slammed the remainder of his length into him, burying himself fully inside the tightness. Just as he expected, the feeling of being completely submerged in Logan was one that was well worth any annoyance he had suffered, and was something that he _knew_ he wouldn't be able to replace.

The cry of pain that ripped Logan's throat, however, was a memory that he would gladly give away. The pale man underneath him had his eyes clenched tightly, teeth gnawing at his lower lip as he tried to will away the ache, fingernails digging into the skin of Jett's arms.

Jett dutifully remained motionless until Logan was well enough to continue. In his fuzzy head, Jett felt three particular emotions; selfish impatience because he wanted _so badly_ to pound into the body beneath him, worry over whether the pain would be too much for Logan and genuinely didn't want to hurt the man, and pride over the thought of his length being large enough to cause the amount of pain that it did.

Logan exhaled a large puff of air, "Alright," he nodded, loosening his hold on Jett's biceps considerably. Not needing to be told twice, Jett resumed motion, repeating the action of pulling back until only the head of his dick was hidden in Logan's entrance, then pushing back in, letting out a groan at the velvet heat that surrounded him even through the thin barrier of rubber.

Logan's face contorted, more from discomfort than anything else, which was something that Jett simply wouldn't allow. Forgetting his own pleasure for the moment, he twisted his hips and angled himself in different positions before thrusting in, intent on making his bedmate _squeal._

And, though Jett hadn't meant it literally, when he did manage to thrust into Logan and press against that bundle of nerves inside him, squeal Logan did, cheeks heating up at the sound he let out. Jett grinned lasciviously and repeated, testing out if he would earn the same sound. Logan glowered and kept his mouth shut when he figured out what Jett was attempting, though small moans still made their way through.

The little game went on until Logan's lips parted and, "_Ohh,_ Jett! _Mmmm yeah, _give me some of that _good stuff,_ baby!"

The line halted Jett immediately, despite his aching cock's protest. "What was _that?" _Jett asked between little pants, eyes wide and slightly frightened.

Logan blinked, fingers tapping nervous patterns into Jett's arm. "You, uh, said I should work on my dirty talk. Was that good?"

"Gods, _no_," Jett sped up his motion, hips slamming against Logan's punctually. "Just…don't speak," he leaned down to plant a silencing kiss on the other man's pouting lips. Even with Logan's unattractive words, Jett's desire didn't subside, perspiration building up as he poured more effort into his thrusts, both never wanting the sensation of being inside Logan to end and wanting to reach that all important finish.

His hips' movements became less measured and more erratic, and he was again grateful for Logan's flexibility as he fucked the man harshly into the mattress. His gaze fell to Logan's hand as it moved to stroke his own neglected cock in a harried motion. The air around them was filled with the obscene sounds of their moans and groans and the slap of sweat-coated flesh against flesh.

Logan moaned just an octave higher than normal before he was coating his own midsection with numerous jets of his seed, managing to hit high above his chest. Jett didn't know whether it was the scene of Logan climaxing all over himself that did him in, or the way Logan's insides clenched tightly around his cock, but soon enough, he was fighting against making embarrassing noises of his own as filled the reservoir tip of the condom with his cum.

After a few shallow thrusts, Jett pulled out of Logan completely and collapsed beside the other man, careful to avoid the mess on Logan's stomach. For a few minutes, there was nothing but heavy panting between them, along with the fervent avoidance of eye contact.

They cleaned up in silence, even when Jett had trouble finding his sock _despite_ the fact that the room was clean – save for the clothes that littered the floor and a few, of course. Jett kept quiet because, now that he was no longer horny, all there was left to do was _think_; think about the foreign feelings he was having for Logan, about how much he'd messed up that night, about how, even though the deed was done, he regretted not kissing Logan afterward.

He guessed that Logan was figuring things out in his own large brain, since silence for him was rare.

Just as Jett was about to leave the room, frowning from the funk he was in, Logan called out to him from behind. "Um…," the other man started off uncertainly, only having bothered putting on his underwear and trousers. In his grip was a small piece of paper, and he stared at everything that _wasn't _Jett. "Do you…want my number? Maybe?"

And there was his chance to make up for every foul for the night, to continue with his 'one-night stand' way of social living. He'd made so many mistakes, and here Logan was presenting him a golden opportunity to redeem himself.

Jett didn't know much about Logan, but he was certain about what kind of person the other man was. If Jett didn't take the number now, then Logan wouldn't pursue with anything further, relationship or otherwise.

And that thought stuck with him. _If he didn't take the number, Logan wouldn't pursue with anything._

"Obviously," he answered with confidence he didn't feel, plucking the paper from anxious fingers. Logan's eyes never met him, but his bright smile did.

Jett told himself that he only accepted the number because he didn't want to see Logan cry or anything. He'd throw it away as soon as he left the apartment complex.

During his drive home, he kept one hand on the wheel while the other toyed with paper in his pocket.

When he got home to his apartment, he tossed the paper onto the table near the front door. Every trashcan was too far out of his way, after all.

It took only three days for him to cave.

The first day, Logan didn't invade his mind _too_ much. Most of the time it was just flashes of pale skin and brown eyes and endearingly crooked smiles in his memories, nothing out of the ordinary. Other times, he thought of Logan's mannerisms and the way he blinked or tilted his head when confused, or Jett wondered what went on in the supercomputer that was Logan's brain.

_Those_ thoughts were the dangerous ones, ones that didn't center on the physical aspects of the peculiar man.

When he left to go to work for the day, his green irises lingered on the paper folded primly on the table before he shut the door. As he drove to work, he sometimes looked around at the random items in the car, the ones Logan had previously analyzed. When he arrived at his job where he worked as a fashion critic for a popular magazine, there was a man in a _cardigan_ walking toward him on the ground floor, scribbling something in his notebook intently. Jett went out of his way to intentionally bump into the man.

Needless to say, he had a headache by the end of the day.

The second day was no better. Whenever he passed through his front door, his eyes would instantly find the little piece of paper that he _just couldn't throw away_, not yet. He attempted to once, he _really_ did, but as soon as his fingers touched the paper, they itched to open it and take just the tiniest peek at the numbers inside, so he dropped it back in its place and wandered off.

He went to lunch with his friend and coworker, Jo that afternoon, making mindless chatter about work and unimportant things. After her phone beeped from a new message, Jo gazed down at it and giggled before holding the phone up so Jett could see, already knowing he'd be curious. On the screen was a picture of a cat with a helmet on, some caption that may or may not have been amusing underneath. He was too distracted by the first thought that popped into his head.

Jett wondered if Logan ever dressed Carlitos up in any outfits. He didn't finish the rest of his salad.

The third day, while he was resting and watching television on his couch, he heard a term that he didn't recognize from a random advertisement. If Jett Stetson was good at anything, it was words – well, he was good at acting and being generally beautiful as well, but words were important too. Not even that bothered him, however.

What bothered him was how he _knew_ that Logan would know the definition of the word.

He decided to go the bar again that night – he _needed_ to get Logan out of his head. What better way was there to do that than by finding someone better? Someone he could be with until Logan was erased from his memory because _he_ _wasn't that special_. He was just another someone.

Those empowering thoughts didn't stop him from finding every tiny imperfection in every potential partner. Their skin was just too artificially bronzed, they were too tall or too short, their outfits were too revealing, their hair just didn't work for him, they came on too strong. _Why couldn't anyone be perfect?_

He left early that night, alone and agitated.

When he got home, he snatched the taunting piece of paper and pulled out his cell phone out of his pocket, scowling at the device as if it was the cause of all of his problems. After the staring contest ended, he dialed the number on the paper and pressed the phone cautiously to his ear. It was only two hours before midnight, he surmised that Logan would be awake.

Well, not so much _surmised_ as _hoped_.

The other end picked up after one ring. _"Hello?"_

"I don't know what synergism is," Jett said plainly, unable to keep the grumpy tone from his voice.

"_Jett?"_

"I don't know what synergism is, and it's really getting on my nerves."

"…_well, couldn't you look it up? In a dictionary or a computer or something?"_

Jett's gaze went to his laptop lying innocently on the table, blue stand-by light blinking mockingly at him. "No. The internet is broken…or some silly excuse like that." What was the point of beating around the bush? Logan would see through it, and it would only waste precious time.

On the other end, Logan made a sound that was vaguely similar to laughter – it wasn't a chuckle or a giggle or a chortle or a titter, it wasn't feminine or masculine, it was the kind that laughter where you blushed and covered your mouth after the fact, something he probably wouldn't be able to place in any category or find anywhere else from _anyone _else.

Logan didn't apologize for it, he just began to cite out the definition of the word. Jett didn't pay much attention to the semantics, but smiled at the chipper voice.

And, yeah, Jett knew that this was something he could handle.

–

_Synergism is the interaction of elements that, when combined, produce a total effect that is greater than the sum of the individual elements._

–

**I do not condone the enjoyment of **_**Twilight**_** in any way, shape or form.**


End file.
